


a place for the night

by ohcinnamon



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M, just some late-night prompt-based fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 22:10:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7455742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohcinnamon/pseuds/ohcinnamon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dallon just wanted to get groceries. He didn't know he'd find a stranger passed out on his doorstep. And now he doesn't have any damn eggs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a place for the night

**Author's Note:**

> title from "love at first sight" by the brobecks.

Going out to buy groceries after midnight may not be the best decision Dallon’s ever made. It's late, his feet are sore, his legs are tired, and he doesn't really think he can make it up three flights of stairs without dropping at least one of the bags in his hands. He’d barely managed to walk the two blocks back to his apartment building without getting mugged, which was a small victory, but now he’s faced with an entirely different problem.

In his defense, though, he’d been working on a new song until 11:30, because he knew that if he’s stopped, he would have lost the inspiration. It's late-night creativity and half-asleep work that brings in most of the money for The Brobecks’ music. After he had finished, he had been about to pass out, but then realized that he had absolutely nothing in the fridge, and if he wanted to eat tomorrow, he’d have to do some shopping. Luckily, the corner market was open until one AM for some absurd reason, so cue the midnight shopping.

Grumbling under his breath, he manages to get the front door to the building closed and fumbles his way up the stairs in the dim light. The worn shag carpeting under his feet definitely feels better than walking on the uneven pavement, but he thinks that he might hate stairs more than anything else in the entire world right now. He somehow manages to work his keys out of his back pocket, and is about to approach his front door when he notices a shadowy figure laying on the ground.

He drops the damn eggs, out of all the bags he could have picked.

His first instinct is to call 911 and report a murder, but there doesn't seem to be any blood or evidence of a struggle. He crouches down to get a better look, squinting in the darkness, and notices that the figure is a man not much younger than himself and clutching a beer bottle in one hand. He might be a little sore tomorrow, seeing as he’s passed out on the floor, but he doesn't look to be injured.

Dallon steps over him as best as he can, gently pushing open the door so as not to wake him, and hurries to put all of his groceries up. He doesn't know the man, but it feels wrong to leave him out in the hallway in the middle of the night. He'll just let him crash on the couch for tonight, and explain in the morning. He's not exactly thinking straight right now anyway.

The man is definitely lighter than him, and a good deal shorter, but it’s still a struggle to pick him up when Dallon's this tired. He manages to drag the stranger into his living room and roll him onto the couch, which _should_ wake most people up. However, whoever this man is, he's not giving any sign of waking, which makes Dallon inwardly grateful.

Now that Dallon can actually see his face, he notices that the stranger is actually kind of cute. Dark, messy hair falls into his eyes, which look relaxed as he sleeps. Dallon's gaze falls from full, slightly-parted lips, down to almost a full sleeve of tattoos gracing the man’s left arm. He's only wearing a tank top and sweatpants, and Dallon frowns. He doesn't want the man to be cold when he wakes up.

After he retrieves a blanket from the bedroom closet, he gingerly drapes it over the sleeping figure on his couch, who doesn't even stir. Part of him is tempted to collapse right there, but most of him knows that's socially unacceptable, no matter how cute the stranger is. He trudges off to his bedroom, rubbing his eyes and wondering how the next morning is going to go.

-

“What the hell?”

Dallon's in the kitchen when he hears the voice coming from his living room, and he smiles to himself just a little bit. It sounds like Sleeping Beauty has finally woken.

Bringing out a mug of coffee and a plate of bacon, he smirks as he enters the room. “I was wondering when you'd wake up. It's almost noon.”

The stranger’s eyes are wide, and he tries to mask the fear on his face with a facade of anger. “Who are you? Where am I?”

“You're in my apartment,” Dallon says simply, plopping down next to the man on his couch. He's still got the blanket halfway around him, and his hair is pressed to one side of his face from sleeping on his side. It's adorable. “I made you breakfast.”

The man drops his face into his hands, groaning loudly. Now that he’s a little more awake and realizes that he’s not in danger, his posture seems to relax. “Look, I know I was drunk last night, but I don't remember much before passing out. Did I...did we…?”

“No! We didn't,” Dallon says abruptly, laughing a little. “I was coming back from grocery shopping and I found you out cold on my doorstep. I didn't really want to leave you alone out there in the middle of the night, so I hauled you in here.”

“Oh, well, thank you.” The man smiles at him sheepishly, suddenly aware of his messy hair and the blanket hanging off one of his shoulders. “You really didn't have to do that. I've passed out in worse places while drunk.”

Dallon shrugs. “It felt wrong not to do anything. I figured I should meet my neighbors in the building sometime or another.” He smiles warmly at the stranger, who seems to be getting used to their situation. “I'm Dallon. You're in apartment 3B, if you didn't know.”

“I'm Brendon. I live in 4A, just up the stairs. I'm not sure how I made it down here without falling down the steps, but I'm glad I landed on your doorstep instead of someone else's,” Brendon says, voice tinged with a hint of warmth, and something in Dallon’s chest unfolds. _Is he seriously flirting with me? We just met._

Well. If that’s how they’re playing, Dallon’s going to run with it while he can. “Other people might not be so nice,” he teases. “I even made you breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” Brendon raises an eyebrow. “This is just bacon. Are we really that stereotypically American?”

“It's not my fault I was so startled to see you that I dropped the eggs,” Dallon retorts, smirking. “If you wanted a full breakfast, maybe you should have stayed at home.”

“Maybe,” Brendon says, tentatively poking at the bacon on the plate. “I'm glad I didn't, though, because I got to meet a cute neighbor. One that cooks, nonetheless.”

Dallon tries his hardest not to blush at that, but it's pretty useless. “Don't start making assumptions yet. I'm not that great of a cook - I'm just a whiz at the basics.” He pauses, biting his lip, but the look Brendon’s giving him dares him to continue. “But I wouldn't say no to taking a cute neighbor out to get some real food sometime.”

“I think I might take you up on that.” Brendon smiles up at him, hints of red beginning to color his cheeks. “Unless you happen to be talking about some other cute neighbor, of course.”

“Would I let anybody less cute sleep on my couch when I don't even know them?” Dallon grins, watching as Brendon turns away to hide his face.

“I could argue. You seem like a pretty nice guy, to say the least,” he says, finally looking back at Dallon. “Thank you for picking up a drunk loser and then taking care of that loser so well. I mean it.”

“You're welcome,” Dallon says as he stands up, planning to return to the kitchen to get himself a mug of coffee. “And by the way, you're welcome to drop by anytime, as long as you don't make me drop any more eggs.”

-

As it happens, Dallon takes Brendon out for “a real brunch” shortly after, and they hit it off so well Dallon swears they’ve known each other forever. A few days later, Brendon knocks at the door of apartment 3B. He comes with eggs.


End file.
